


Party Trick

by Charolastra



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Autofellatio, Blow Jobs, Come Eating, Come Swallowing, Elektra Natchios (mentioned) - Freeform, Flexibility, Kinky things, Masturbation, Other, Stress Relief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:20:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26588029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charolastra/pseuds/Charolastra
Summary: Back in college and high school, it was just a rumored myth. Something that people wished could be, but found that it usually couldn't. Matt never tried it until much later.Thank God for flexibility.Just a quick, lazy drabble.
Kudos: 12





	Party Trick

He only wore a shirt, heaped against his chest where it had rolled down. Laying on his back, Matt kicked his legs into the air, bending them over his head until his knees almost touched the bed beside him, stiff cock dangling above his face. A little more pushing and moving to an admittedly odd angle, bending in ways normal bodies could not and he could feel the heat from the swollen crown pulsing right in front of his lips; and damn, that heat was almost fire, begging to be touched. Matt closed his eyes, an involuntary grunt escaping him. Took a breath. The exhale that followed puffed hot air over his sex like he was teasing himself. 

He paused like that for a moment to savor the feeling, swallowed hard, his adams apple bobbing in his scruffy throat. He didn't do this much during college, just when he needed the destressing, but he certainly remembered it–the musky smell, the salty taste of himself. Remembered how he even found out about such a thing. Elektra had gotten him to actually try it, of course. She liked to watch him get off when she didn't feel up to more active sex. Sometimes she'd hover behind him, massaging his thighs or steadily rocking him back and forth so his length plunged into his own mouth at a good clip while her fingers probed inside him. 

With a trembling breath, he parted his lips. Let his tongue poke out and graze the tip.

"Mnn _ah_.."

Fuck, it felt good, like the full-bodied relief when one stepped into warmth from the cold. The taste was immediately of bitter precum weeping from the slit. Matt pushed his hips a little further forward, letting the head disappear into his mouth, shivering as pleasure rocketed through his length. An experimental suck redoubled the shudder and made Matt furrow his brow against the almost overwhelming pleasure.

Slowly, he rocked his hips down, pushing his cock into his mouth and suckling as he pulled out, his face flushed. His exhales were tiny gasps, trembling, evincing the pleasure he was capable of giving himself–or what he hadn't allowed himself to receive from anyone in a while, really. Testing how far he could go yielded satisfying results–down to the root, the flesh thick, heavy on his tongue–and soon he'd given up any sense of rhythm in favor of working the strong muscles of his throat around himself.

Heart beating like a drum in his ears, blood rushing like crashing waves growing steadily rougher, Matt felt his release fast approaching. How had he lasted even this long? This was fucking fantastic, the velvety wet heat of his mouth and the control of it all. He had to compete with several sounds just to hear himself think about whether he would finish in his own mouth or not. There was the _thump thump thump_ in his chest and the _woosh_ in his entire body and the _suuuck suck sluuurp suck_ in his head and the _gulp_ in his throat. A fuzzy heady feeling while his balls drew up tight against him. _So_ tight.

Too late to make up his mind, Matt came. Hands fisted the sheets hard while he took himself balls deep, one last suck milking the hot spurts of cum into his throat. He couldn't even taste much of it. His spend went straight back, all but disappearing in one little swallow. Not a drop on his tongue.

Panting, laying on his back with his spit soaked erection flagging above his face, the devil could breathe. Even though he was bent up like an accordion, a weight had been lifted—no, a weight had been taken out of his ribcage, freeing space for his lungs to at last feel satisfied with his breaths.

That felt _way_ better than getting drunk.


End file.
